“Who are you then?” he asked, quickly.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the woman. “Your memory does not serve you quite as well as mine does me, most worthy squire. I presume my acquaintance would not be considered much of an honor. Nevertheless you and I are old friends!”
“Have done with your croaking, and tell me what you want here,” interrupted Squire Moulton, impatiently, yet with a touch of uneasiness in his voice.
“What do I want? I will tell you soon enough what I wish!” she replied, flashing her eyes angrily at him. “You had a sister once?”
“Yes, to my sorrow. What of her?”
“Where is she now?” asked his visitor, with a sinister smile.
“Dead, and gone to perdition, for all I know or care,” returned he, brutally.
“Dead, is she,” repeated the woman, with the same look.
“Yes, dead, I say! Confound you, what do you mean by all this quizzing, you fool?”
The squire was becoming enraged, and could not calmly bear the steadfast, penetrating gaze of the persistent woman before him.